


Bound & Crowned

by mad_martha



Series: Bonds [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, BDSM, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron introduces Harry to a new sensation that tests the limits of his self-control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound & Crowned

"That's the boring, official part of your present," Ron said, when Harry took the Pride of Portree tickets out of the envelope.

"Thanks, mate!"  Harry was genuinely delighted by the gift.  "I'm looking forward to this game."

"You're welcome - I reckon it'll be a good one."  Ron paused for a beat, then casually took something out of his jeans pocket and pushed it across the table towards Harry.  "This is the unofficial bit.  Merry Christmas!"

Harry took one look at the soft crimson velvet of the little bag and felt a stab of recognition that went straight to his cock and left him flushed and half-hard.  He had never been to the shop that wrapped its goods in those red velvet bags (far too risky for Harry Potter to be seen there), but he knew the significance of it only too well.

Ron got a hooded-eyed look of amusement that was all too familiar to his friend.  "You haven't even opened it yet," he remarked softly, and he took a sip of his drink.

Open it?  _Here?_   A bag from … _that_ place?  The very idea was alarming.  They were sitting in the middle of The Leaky Cauldron in the middle of the day, surrounded by chattering patrons - anyone could see.

"Maybe later," Harry said and he was annoyed with the slightly higher-than-usual tone of his voice.

Ron had clear blue eyes framed by long red lashes.  Ninety percent of the time they would be wide and straightforward, meeting your gaze with open honesty.  The other ten percent of the time, though, when he really fixed his attention on you with those half-lowered eyelids, it was a little like being trapped in the headlights of an oncoming train.  Harry couldn't decide if this was a natural trick or something Ron had cultivated.

Harry found himself pinioned in his chair.  The guilty _frisson_ this gave him did nothing to discourage his burgeoning erection. 

"Open it," Ron said and there was no negotiation in his voice, only the calm expectation of total obedience.

Harry had spent his free time for the past couple of months learning to obey that voice without question.  He picked up the velvet bag without a second thought and pulled the drawstring neck open.  The cloth was like a caress on his fingertips, which was in complete contrast to the two objects that slid out into the palm of his hand.

He blinked.  It was two small bronze snakes, one with little crystal eyes and coiled like a resting cobra, and the other strangely coiled with its tail doubled back on itself.

"Okay …" he said tentatively and he looked at Ron for clarification.

"You wear them," Ron explained, still in that deceptively gentle tone.

In spite of everything, Harry still retained a certain naivety.  His brain didn't jump automatically to conclusions where sex was concerned, even when the evidence was fairly obvious.

"Where?" he asked, and at once he felt foolish.

Ron's smirk brought even more of a flush to his cheeks.  "Guess!"

"You're kidding me, right?  No, of course you're not," Harry concluded in a mumble.  "They're pretty heavy."

"That's part of the fun," Ron said, growing steadily more amused.

"Both at once?"

"No, just one at a time."  Ron leaned back in his seat, completely at ease in a way that Harry envied.  Around them the business of the pub went on, the other customers utterly unheeding of their conversation.

Harry couldn't help wondering how that could be.  He was sitting there with a nuclear reactor glow on his face and a handful of - ah - _intimate_ jewellery.  He _never_ went unnoticed in public and yet no one seemed to pay him a blind bit of attention today.  Maybe it was Ron's extraordinary ordinariness to the uninitiated eye.  No one looking at him now - slightly scruffy and dishevelled, with rumpled hair and an unshaven chin - would ever guess that he made his money by dressing up in glossy, studded leather and whipping people.

 _Oh bugger_.  He shouldn’t have thought of that.  Harry frantically tried to imagine that he was sitting on a nice big pile of ice-cubes.  From the laughter in Ron's eyes he apparently wasn't succeeding very well.

"So, are you going to try one on?" Ron asked and his eyes met Harry's over the edge of his tankard as he took another swallow of his beer.

Harry's mouth went dry.  "What - now?  Here?"

"There's a bathroom," Ron said, nodding towards the door at the other end of the bar.

"But …"  Harry's voice trailed off.  Ron was raising a brow at him in an all-too-familiar way.

Oh - that hadn't been a question.

He drew in a deep breath.  Okay.  He looked down at the two rings clenched in his hand again.  In truth, he wasn't entirely sure _how_ he was supposed to wear them but there was no way on earth he was going to ask.  Not that he hadn't had to ask an awful lot of embarrassing questions like that over the past few months, but he was damned if he would ask Ron how to wear cock jewellery when they were sitting in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron, no matter how oblivious their fellow patrons seemed.  He worked for the Ministry after all.  If there was a reporter within a hundred yards of their table, their conversation was guaranteed to end up on the front pages of the _Prophet_ by the following morning.

The ring with the doubled-back tail looked more complicated than the other, so Harry put it back in the bag and hid the one with the jewelled eyes in his palm and got up.

"Won't be a minute," he muttered.

"I'll be here," Ron replied calmly.

 

~~~

 

He could have refused, of course.

The earliest lesson in all things BDSM had been about consent, safe-words and general safety practices.  It was rare that he and Ron explored the bondage side of things much, but the principles were the same and Harry had a safe-word that he could use any time he felt things were crossing over into territory he didn't like.  Ron was absolutely rigorous about this and Harry knew that should he ever need to use the word it would instantly be honoured.  He felt completely safe with Ron - safer than he'd felt with anyone in his entire life, if he was honest.

 _Comfortable_ was another matter, but it was a fact he'd had to face up to that going out of his comfort zone was something that seriously turned him on.  There had been a number of experiences recently that, on the face of it, Harry did not feel bore too close an examination but which had been … extraordinary … in practice.

So if Ron wanted him to wear a little bronze snake on a certain part of his anatomy, especially a part of his anatomy that couldn't be seen while his clothes were on, then it was a pretty mild request and Harry wasn't about to overreact and refuse without trying it for size (so to speak).  "Try" being the operative word, he thought with a grimace.  How on earth did it fit?  Penis jewellery wasn't something he'd given a great deal of thought to before beyond a vague, wincing awareness that some men actually got it pierced.  Clearly this was in a different league …

The unromantic confines of a lavatory stall in the men's toilets at least served to cure him of part of his earlier problem.  Feeling very foolish, Harry unzipped his trousers and studied the little snake again, holding it against himself with a pensive frown that would have amused Ron very much had he seen it. 

Okay.  He thought he understood now how it was supposed to be worn, but it occurred to him that it was a very good thing he was circumcised - not something he often thought about - because he couldn't see how this would work if he was still in possession of his foreskin.  It would be a snug fit though and Harry couldn't help a stray concern about what would happen if it got stuck.  Visions of having to explain it to a healer at St. Mungo's made him waver for a second.

Then he remembered Ron's raised brow and let the thought go.  The element of risk was all part of the experience.

Bracing himself inwardly, Harry eased the bronze band over the head of his cock and almost at once felt an unnerving magical tingle as the loop contracted slightly with the head of the snake nestling against the slit.

Harry gasped.

It was _warm_ and pulsed gently in sync with his heartbeat, and the combined effect was to instantly make him half-hard again.  Conversely, the weight of the piece of jewellery seemed to be all that stood between him and an erection that no amount of clothing could disguise.

Harry cursed softly, willing his cock to subside.  No luck.  _Ice cubes_ , he thought desperately, _bathing in ice water, swimming in arctic floes, walking through the Ministry Atrium naked, Rita Skeeter naked, Uncle Vernon naked …_

Nothing worked.  He remained stubbornly at half-mast, the little snake pulsing in a way that made his balls tingle with an unfulfilled promise.

It was no good; he couldn't go back into the taproom like this, let alone back to his office at the Ministry for the rest of the afternoon.  Biting his lip, Harry tried to slip the snake off himself.

Except that it wouldn't shift.

Ten minutes later, and heartily grateful for loose suit trousers and voluminous Ministry robes, Harry slid back into his seat opposite Ron.

"What took you so long?" Ron asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"It's stuck!" Harry muttered, and his already pink face turned a deeper shade of red when he realised that far from sounding accusing as he'd intended, his tone was decidedly petulant instead.

Ron actually had the nerve to grin at him, his blue eyes dancing with amusement.  "Stuck where, you daft sod?"

"Where do you _think?_ "

"And that's where it's meant to be."

"But I can't take it off!"

"That's the general idea, mate.  It has to be taken off you."

Harry stared at him in disbelief and alarm.  "Ron … no."

Ron tilted his head to one side, considering him.  "Oh?"

Harry swallowed.  He knew that tone.  On the other hand …  "I have to go back to work this afternoon.  How am I supposed to work when I'm - when I'm like _this?_ "

"Like what?"

"You know like what!"

"Don't you like it?" Ron asked, and there was still a smile lurking in his eyes despite the seriousness of his tone.

"Don't I …?"  Harry had to close his eyes for a moment.  Ron hadn't made a move - in fact, there was nothing to suggest that he'd actually done anything - but the little snake had suddenly _moved_ , as though coiling itself halfway up the shaft of his cock, squeezing very gently, and then sliding back down to settle, pulsing, against the head once more.  Harry swallowed hard.  "That's not the point," he managed, when he could speak with a semblance of control again.  "The point is that I have to work and how am I supposed to work when I'm … you know?"

"That's the general idea," Ron said, amused.

Harry stared at him, bewildered.  "I'm not supposed to work?"

"No.  You're supposed to go back to work and … enjoy it."

Harry gaped at him.  The business of the pub carried on around them, oblivious to the fact that Harry's world was suddenly turned inside out.

"You're joking," he said finally, very weakly.

"Nope."

"I … Ron, I _can't_.  I have two meetings this afternoon, I have to be able to concentrate."

"That's okay."  Ron sat back, very calm and casual, but his eyes met Harry's and the amusement was gone, replaced by something more serious.  "If you really don't want to do it, you know what to do."

Harry discreetly wiped his damp palms on his trousers.  Yes - he knew what to do.  If he genuinely didn't like the scenario Ron was proposing, all he had to do was use his safe-word and it would stop.  No questions, no arguments.

The snake pulsed very gently, the sensation just on the right side of uncomfortable.  He was still half-hard, his cock tenting his trousers under the bunched folds of his robe, and thanks to the stimulation of the snake that situation didn't seem likely to change any time soon.  It was deeply tantalising, something Harry would definitely have enjoyed without reservation at any other time.

Was enjoying in a perverse way even now, if the truth was told.

"Your choice, mate," Ron told him.  "Remember what I told you?"

He remembered.  The sub always held the power in the relationship, not the dom.  The decision was entirely his.

 

~~~

 

It was torture, in the most exquisite sense of the word.

Harry made it through the first of his meetings by dint of willpower and gritted teeth, and prayed that in his distraction he didn't make any suggestions or decisions that would come back to bite him later.  Periodically the little snake would shiver or change the rhythm of its pulsing, as though to remind him (as if he could forget) that it was there, but the weight of the little band around the head of his cock ensured that his erection never got out of hand.  He remained half-hard, a tantalising and frustrating sensation that made sitting in a Ministry boardroom chair a penance and walking about a severe risk of self-exposure.

By the time the meeting came to a close, Harry was desperate for some sort of relief.  He made the briskest non-dash to the lavatory of his life and shut himself in one of the cubicles, casting a silencing spell on the door without even pausing to find his wand.  He hadn't jerked off in a toilet since he was a teenager, but in seconds his fly was unbuttoned and he was offering up a prayer of thanks to any deity that was listening as he could finally grasp his cock.

A short while later, Harry rested his sweaty forehead against the cool varnished surface of the door and swore with unrestrained venom at those same deities.

No matter what he did, he just couldn't come.  He couldn't even seem to achieve a full erection.  His balls ached, his shaft throbbed, and the little snake continued to pulse teasingly around the head of his cock, but he remained in a sexual limbo, neither fully relaxed nor fully tumescent.

And if what his lover had said was true, he would remain that way until Ron himself chose to release him.

Perversely, the thought of the control Ron held over him at that moment made his cock twitch with excitement and as if in response the snake suddenly loosened and moved.  Harry stared down at it in helpless fascination as it gently coiled itself along the shaft of his cock, squeezing him caressingly once or twice before returning to settle around the head once more.

 _I have to find out how he does that,_ he thought vaguely … and he closed his eyes for a moment, realising that he really _was_ totally screwed.

And he still had another two-hour-long meeting to survive.

 

~~~

 

By the time Harry went home that evening, the pressure on his genitals was making him feel so distracted that he made himself take the Floo rather than risk splinching himself.

He barely made it through the door of his flat before he began to shed his clothes.  In a manner completely at odds with his usual tidiness, he abandoned every stitch where it fell in his desperation to get to his bathroom and the shower.  _Cold water_ , he chanted to himself silently, so focussed on the relief he hoped it would provide that it took two glances to register that he wasn't alone.

"Something I can help you with?"

Ron was standing in the doorway of Harry's bedroom.  He wore nothing but an old and faded pair of jeans that sat low on his hips and his nicely muscled chest was displayed to advantage.  But by now Harry was so overwhelmed that all he could seem to focus upon was the thick line of red hair that led down the middle of his lover's belly and disappeared into those jeans in the most tantalising way. 

He had to brace himself on the doorpost of the bathroom just to remind himself of where he was and what exactly was going on.

"Ron …"  The name came out as part groan, part whimper.

Ron strolled over to him, very casual and yet very controlled.

"Where are you, Harry?" he asked, but the tone was more a demand than a question.

"With you," Harry breathed.

He was standing behind Harry now, very close, his warm breath tickling the nape of his neck.

"Anything you want to say to me?"

"No …"

"Are you sure?"

This was the get-out line, the opportunity for Harry to stop everything if he wanted to.

"I'm sure."

"All right."  Fingertips brushed over his shoulder very lightly for a second.  "Finish undressing."

Harry didn't have much more than his socks on by this point, but he took them off as instructed, swaying a little when the bronze snake began to pulse much faster around his cock.

"Oh god … Ron …"

"What do you want me to do?" Ron asked, sounding coolly amused.

"Let me … let me come," Harry panted.

"Say the magic word."

" _Please_..."

"Since you ask so nicely."

Ron pressed himself up against Harry's back, the smooth warmth of his chest contrasting with the cooler roughness of denim against Harry's arse.  Ron reached around him, running a fingertip lightly along the length of Harry's cock shaft until he touched the snake; a sensation that made Harry whimper with over-stimulation.

 _"Finite incantatem."_

The snake ceased pulsing and Ron slipped it over the head of Harry's cock easily.  Released from its confinement his erection surged and Harry cried out.

Warm fingers clamped around the base of his cock, subduing his orgasm before it could start.

"Oh no, not yet," Ron whispered into Harry's ear, and there was an undertone of wicked amusement in the stern words that promised more revelations and pleasures to come.  "You'll have to wait a bit longer yet, our fun's only just beginning …"

  
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**_~ finis ~_**   


  
  



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